Page 56 of From the Ashes
from the ashes I stood,
steadier now, repeating:
not yours, not weak.
as long as it’s beating,
life is still worth living.
16
CARTER
Saturday night,seven pm. Finally. I missed my girl so much it was hard to think until I saw her sweet face on the porch, my bike behind me as I walked up to her. The evening is warm, and the sun hasn’t set yet. It makes her face bath in an orange glow, like glitter on her skin. She’s wearing this long, flowery red dress. There’s lots of fabric. Too much fabric. I can’t see enough of her because it covers her legs, but the ribbon she tightened at her waist enhances her goddess silhouette. Her hair is down, wild and filled with caramel shadows.
I’m in my usual black jeans and T-shirt. Makes it easier to clean off the blood. It’s kind of my uniform. It’s been a busy week; we caught a few guys sniffing around our Prez’s wife, Mia. Guess some gangs aren’t thrilled about us taking over Irish turf. She’s safe, but Ash and I agreed to stay sharp on her next outings. Wives are always the first targets. Our enemies know that’s how to hit our Prez where it hurts most. I’m glad my girl doesn’t have to deal with that. Bodyguards don’t count. It’s who we protect that matters.
There’s a thin stripe of brown on her eyelid. Why did she do that? She’s already so pretty. She smiles gently as I saunter toher, towering over her small height and enjoying the view of her hazelnut eyes staring at me wide and dilated.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi, sweetness,” I reply, taking her hand and lifting it to my lips. I kiss the back of it, never breaking eye contact. “You ready?”
“I… The sitter is about to arrive, I was thinking, if… If you’re up to it, you could meet Noah properly since last time was…a bit rushed.” She pushes her hair behind her ears.Nervousness.She thinks I went away because I couldn’t handle meeting her son.Fuck no, I need to repair this now.
“Last time,” I clear my throat, “I left because I got surprised when I tried to…smile. It caught me off guard. It had nothing to do with Noah. I was thrilled to meet him. Really,” I deliver in one breath.
“That’s what I thought, but…why did you smile?”
A second stretches, and then another. “Guess I hadn’t seen such an innocent face in a while and it triggered me. My first instinct was to smile, make him comfortable. I’m used to folks being afraid of me, but I don’t want Noah to be one of them.” I shrug, my voice blank, but at least she knows why. I never want her to think I’m not accepting her son. He’s a part of the package. I knew it from the start and I’ll always embrace it. She nods, the corner of her lips rising, and looks back at her son, eating spaghetti at the diner table.
“So youcansmile.” She chuckles lightly, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.
“I didn’t think I could, but…yes.”
“Good,” she murmurs, “good.” She’s about to turn, but I rest my hand on her arm and stop her, “Just so you know, the doc said it didn’t mean that I would completely recover from my lack of social cues. I… I don’t want to get your hopes up, I… Maybe I’lljust stay this way and have slight improvements here and there, but?—”
She lifts her hand to my face and rests her palm on my cheek, her gaze drowning in mine, “Don’t change anything, Carter, I… I like you the way you are.” I nod, frozen by her words. And then she lifts on her tiptoes and kisses my jaw with her begging-to-be-kissed lips. I clench my fist. The urge to grab her waist is overtaking me, but this isn’t the time. I inhale deeply while I watch her bite her lips.
“O-okay, let’s go inside, I really want you guys to meet.” She takes my hand, squeezing it as if she is trying to calm herself. Her home looks even warmer at night with the numerous small lamps across the room, her colorful decor, and plants everywhere. Noah is focused on trying to swirl his spaghetti with furrowed brows, in his dinosaur pajamas, and with tomato sauce smashed around his mouth.
“Noah,” she clears her throat “do, um, do you remember my friend?” Lana’s tone is light, cheerful even, but I catch the tiny flinch when she saysfriend. And I’m glad she does, because we both know that word doesn’t quite cover it. Yes, we’re friends. But I want more. So much more. What’s growing between us doesn’t fit inside the lines of friendship, and I’m not planning on pretending it does. Noah’s chocolate eyes double. He shovels another forkful of pasta into his mouth, nodding quickly as he watches me.
“Hi, Noah,” I say bluntly, trying to warm up my tone as much as I can.
Don’t be a fucking failure this time.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, nodding toward a chair, her chin lifting slightly to guide me where to sit. I’m grateful for her directions. It helps. Noah’s her whole world, and if I want a chance with Lana, I need to make sure this works.
"No thanks," I say, taking the seat to Noah’s right as Lana settles across from him. The three of us, gathered in this home, could almost pass for a family.
“Why are you dressed all black?” he asks, pulling his knees up just below his chin. I glance at Lana, waiting for her go-ahead to talk to her son. She nods with a light smile, her eyes slightly creased. I see trust, warmth, affection.
Good.
“Black’s my favorite color,” I explain, realizing kids are a lot simpler than adults, and for once, that might actually work in my favor. I’ve never been good at small talk. Never sure what people expect me to say. I’d rather just speak directly. And it seems like he does too. “Do you have a favorite color?”
"Orange," he says with no hesitation, "like the fruit."
